Even
by EnchanteRhea
Summary: On the importance of concentration, and a couple of other things. [Ritsuka, Soubi]


**Note**: Written for Amanda, who wanted a story in which Ritsuka makes Soubi laugh. ♥  
_Loveless_ is not mine, obviously. Please enjoy.

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**Even**  
by Rhea Logan

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They sat back to back, Soubi's coat under him to keep the grass, damp from the descending fog, from soaking his clothes. Ritsuka idly fingered the furry hem, silently glad that Soubi had taken it along as the evening breeze brushed past him in cool wisps. It played with Soubi's hair, tugging and pulling; sheltered behind him, Ritsuka did not need to worry about the cold.

"Boring," he announced after what seemed like hours. He would have preferred to do something that involved actually _doing_ something, but Soubi had insisted. "Remind me, what's the purpose of this?"

Soubi didn't move. Ritsuka heard a whisper of breath and cigarette smoke. The smell hit his nostrils an instant before a small, white cloud came dancing around him.

"Ritsuka needs to improve his concentration," he said, the low tone of his voice reverberating through Ritsuka's back as he spoke. "Your ability to focus determines whether you win or lose."

Ritsuka would have rolled his eyes, but he suspected that Soubi would somehow see it – regardless of the undeniable fact that he faced the opposite direction. He really didn't want to think about any of this; for once, the world looked much better without Fighters, Sacrifices, spell battles or... this. Soubi had called it training.

Ritsuka dubbed it a nuisance.

"I can focus," he said at last, frowning. He decided to stare at one blade of grass for a whole minute to prove it, if only to himself. Though, on second thought, if Soubi had eyes on the back of his head – itself a creepy but not impossible idea – it was even better.

"Soubi," Ritsuka nudged him gently with his elbow when the surrounding grass blurred around his chosen blade into a dark, shapeless mass. "Did you say that concentration makes anything possible?"

Soubi leaned gently forth, probably giving a small nod. "So I said."

Ritsuka pulled his eyes from the grass and turned, watching a small cloud of smoke dissolve in the cool, evening air. "Even blow smoke circles?"

Soubi spun around - a strand of his flyaway hair tickled Ritsuka's cheek before catching behind his kitty ear. "What?"

Ritsuka chuckled, returning Soubi's surprised stare. He looked nowhere near as scary as Ritsuka had seen him capable of, his brow creased, wild hair weaving – positively _confused._

"Smoke circles," he repeated, shifting onto his knees. The grass felt wet under his palms. "I saw that in the movies."

Soubi's brow twitched and, for a moment, he froze. "Ritsuka is too young to smoke," he said, a chilling seriousness in his voice.

Ritsuka cringed. "No, stupid!" he shook his head and made a disgusted face. "I didn't say _I_ wanted to smoke. It's gross." He jumped to his feet, shaking the small droplets of dew off his hands. "I mean, can _you_ do that?"

If Soubi had looked confused before, now it seemed as though he couldn't decide whether he should stay puzzled, or amused. "...probably," he said, tossing the cigarette butt a small distance away.

Ritsuka folded his arms and sat on his heels. "Show me."

Soubi blinked but obeyed; his hand slid into his pocket, fishing for the pack of cigarettes he always carried there. Ritsuka watched his movements – slower, clumsier than usual – with ever growing amusement. Soubi looked like he was putting too much effort into thinking and not enough into acting, whatever the reason. He didn't make a world-shattering request, did he?

A small lighter flashed in Soubi's hand; Ritsuka dove for it, snatching it before Soubi could voice any kind of objections. He had seen Kio do that – always suspiciously eager – and, he decided, he could do _that,_ too.

The flame caught the third time he tried; Soubi leaned in, pulling until the paper and tobacco lit up in bright orange-red. The first cloud of smoke escaped through the corners of his mouth. He looked up.

Ritsuka nodded.

Soubi inhaled what looked like a generous amount and straightened a little, head tipped slightly back. His lips formed a small 'o' and he puffed a tiny, shapeless bit of smoke.

Ritsuka bit his tongue. "Focus," he said, trying hard not to giggle as he imitated Soubi's tone. "It can't be that hard, right?"

Soubi's eyelids fluttered and he closed his eyes, releasing a few more white, formless smoke-clouds before something resembling a ring emerged against the dark. It swirled and vanished as quickly as it had shown up.

Ritsuka tossed a brief glance over Soubi's form, _focused_ yet not quite successful, a wicked idea flashing through his thoughts. He leapt forward, quick fingers digging into Soubi's sides, and _tickled._

Soubi coughed, lost balance and landed flat on his back with a soft, strangled yelp. Ritsuka crawled on top of him to seize his chance before Soubi could collect himself, searching for more sensitive spots around his ribs until he gave in.

"Rit—Ritsuka—" he tripped over his tongue through barely stifled laughter. "Stop that!"

"You're ticklish!" Soubi wriggled under him, and Ritsuka couldn't keep the sheer delight away from his voice. "I knew it. There goes your focu—" his voice caught in his throat as Soubi's hands locked behind his back and pulled. He landed in the warmth of Soubi's chest.

"Indeed," Soubi chuckled, pulling him close. His hands slid under Ritsuka's armpits. "But so are you."

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April 27th, 2006


End file.
